


Aftermath

by katie_b



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical Cursing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Post-Canon, Post-Series, They're getting there, and a bit of physical, and to talk with each other, slowly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 13:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12727902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_b/pseuds/katie_b
Summary: "Minho, I need to talk to you." Thomas tried to get as much security in his voice as he could, but Minho just cocked his eyebrow and continued stacking the arrows in the quivers."You sure it can't wait? I have a bunch of kids who want a lesson in archery. Annoying little slintheads." His words were harsh, but Thomas knew his friend enjoyed in the time spent teaching the kids old enough to hold a bow."I... It can't, I'm sorry."Minho was still half turned towards the Second Homestead, so Thomas decided to get to the point."It's about Newt."Minho finally learns what really happened to Newt. Thomas and him have to face that and themselves if they want to heal.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> soo this is my first work on ao3! reviews and criticism are welcome, leave a kudos if you liked it and enjoy the story :D

The air was warm and thick. Grey clouds gathered above Safe Haven with the promise of rain. Thunder echoed in the distance, and wind rolled oved the hills to their sanctuary. Thomas rushed across the field, his eyes darting left and right, searching for Minho, but the Leader was nowhere to be seen. Frypan and Thomas laughed their butts off when one older man noticed the tattoo on the back of his neck and took up calling him like that. Soon everyone knew Minho as the Leader, even if it was only in nickname.  
Thomas noticed the boy shuffling around improvised archery targets and walked over.  
"Minho, I need to talk to you." He tried to get as much security in his voice as he could, but Minho just cocked his eyebrow and continued stacking the arrows in the quivers.  
"You sure it can't wait? I have a bunch of kids who want a lesson in archery. Annoying little slintheads." His words were harsh, but Thomas knew his friend enjoyed in the time spent teaching the kids old enough to hold a bow.  
"I... It can't, I'm sorry."  
Minho was still half turned towards the Second Homestead, so Thomas decided to get to the point.  
"It's about Newt."  
Those three words got Minho's full attention, and Thomas noticed sadness and anger flashed across his face. Of course Minho would be angry; he didn't know Newt was dead, and partially blamed himself for not getting him to leave the Crank Palace when he could.  
"Thomas, please... Just leave it alone. That shuck-face made his decision, and he's probably a full-on Crank by now."  
"No, he's not." Thomas barely whispered that sentence but Minho's eyes widened in surprise and confusion.  
"What are you talking about?"  
"Look, let's go somewhere private." The desperation in his voice was probably what convinced Minho to listen to him, and the two boys walked to a nearby grove of trees. The trees were the polar opposite those back in the Glade - light shone freely through their branches, and there was a feeling of serenity over the entire Greenwood, as one of the younger boys so originally named it. But Thomas's heart was beating like it did when Ben attacked him; his breathing was heavy and the dread tied his stomach in knots.  
"This is private enough. Now tell me what the shuck did you mean?" The older boy crossed his muscular arms across his chest and stared at Thomas. "How do you know what happened to Newt?"  
"Because I was there." He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "We crashed with the van on our way to the Berg which would take me to WICKED's headquarters, and he-"  
"You're stalling." Minho's voice was flat; it was the voice of the Keeper of the Runners, someone who knew when hope was gone. He sighed and ran his head through his spiky hair. "He's dead, isn't he? What, you accidentally ran him over?"  
It would be so easy for Thomas to say yes, to make it sound like it was all a terrible accident, but both Minho and Newt deserved more than that. So he shook his head.  
"I recognized him. He stood out on the side of the road. He was almost completely gone, but he was still so mad with me." His voice wavered a bit; memory brought sadness and hopelessness Thomas felt that day, with none of the numbness which ensued. Minho talking relieved him and gave him time to gather up the courage he needed.  
"Yeah, I remember that. I'm guessing you know why?" Minho wasn't unfazed by this conversation - Thomas noticed a slight tremble in his hands and the white knuckles clutching his arms.  
He couldn't bring himself to answer the question. Instead, he pulled out Newt's note out of his back pocket and gave it to his friend. Minho's eyebrows rose in surprise at Newt's handwriting, and an unreadable expression appeared on his face when he read the two short sentences.  
"Thomas, please tell me you-"  
"He knocked me to the ground and forced my gun against his forehead. I wasn't going to do it, but-"  
"No but, you stupid shuck!" Minho shouted. "You killed him!" He grabbed Thomas by his shirt collar and pinned him against the nearest tree, his forearm pressing against Thomas's throat. Thomas could feel small branches digging into his back, but he didn't try to fight the older boy.  
"How could you do it?" he asked. Tears of either rage or sadness, Minho himself didn't know which, appeared in his eyes as Thomas continued to keep the same blank expression on his face. It only fueled his anger and he had to stop himself from punching his friend in the face.  
"He came back, Minho," Thomas whispered. "For a moment or two, Newt was... Newt again. I saw it. And you know what he did?" He was shaking because of the guilt he currently felt. He almost wished for Minho to beat him up, hurt him so badly he couldn't walk.  
"What?" Minho growled through his teeth, though he assumed the answer.  
"He begged me to kill him."  
The first punch hurt the most; Minho's large fist connected with Thomas's temple and made him see stars. The next few he barely felt over the mental anguish, the memories of Newt as he was in the Glade. But the kicks which came after he fell to the floor were enough to bring him to the real world. The sound of his ribs cracking made Minho falter for a moment; it was all Thomas needed, and he swung out with both legs and Minho fell to the ground. It didn't stop the former Keeper, though. He climbed on top of Thomas and started swinging.  
"You think you're some saint now, huh? Thomas the merciful, killing his friends from the moment we left the shucking Maze!"  
Thomas planned on not fighting back, but pinning Chuck's death on him sparked a rush of wrath in him. He arched his back and threw Minho off before rushing to his feet and giving him a solid kick in the stomach.  
"You think I wanted to kill him? You saw the note! Newt was scared, he'd been scared when he climbed the Maze wall and jumped, and he'd been scared when he held my hand and gun to his head! I..." All strength left him and Thomas fell to his knees, but Minho didn't move, kneeling and breathing rapidly in an attempt to control his emotions.  
"I hate myself because of what I did, and there's no forgiveness for me. But I wouldn't change my choice. You didn't see him when he asked me, Minho."  
"You killed your friend, Thomas. Just say it like it is." Minho spat on the ground and got up. Without even a glance towards bloodied Thomas, he walked away.

***

Newt's old backpack from the Glade times stood on a shelf in one of the storage rooms on the back side of the Second Homestead. Minho didn't know why he went searching for it, telling himself it was a stupid nostalgia and emotions getting in the way. And it was true; tears stopped running down his face but the grief remained. Still, some instinct guided him to the dusty bag which one of the Immunes found while being in the Maze.  
Minho rummaged through it, finding it empty. But he remembered a distand and half-forgotten conversation he and Newt had on the night Chuck arrived.  
"Yeah," the blonde boy said, "you may be the best, but I'll bet you a bottle of Gally's... Whatever that is," he laughed and continued, "that you can't figure out where I keep my stash of the stuff."  
"Please," Minho smirked, "I already know it's in that ugly-ass sack you carry around."  
"Maybe. I guess you'll have to open it to know."  
And of course Minho never figured out the knots before finally giving up. But he didn't feel like a complete loser when he saw Newt puking his guts out in the morning and dragging himself with a nasty hangover the entire day.  
This time, he took his time with the knots - who knew, perhaps there was some alcohol left in it - but the side pocket was empty save for a piece of paper sticking out of it. Minho took it out and straightened it before reading. 

'Tomorrow we're leaving the Maze. It's finally happening, and I'm leaving this behind because I don't want anything reminding me of this bloody place. The fact that all of my memories are here is punishment enough. God, I hope no one notices me writing this. I already feel like a schoolgirl in love, I don't need Minho riding my tail for the rest of my life.  
I just want us to be remembered. The Gladers. This place is the only home I've ever known even if it is a klunk-hole. And thank heavens I wasn't alone. The slintheads stuck in the Glade with me are the only reason I didn't lose my buggin mind. I'll thank them some day, especially Minho. He's literally the reason I'm alive, and Tommy is the reason we're leaving the Maze. Without them, we'd all be shucked. And I pray to God, if he exists, that we stay like this out there. That we still look out for each other because if your family doesn't have your back, who else is there?'

Minho didn't move for a long time after having finished reading the letter. The Sun had set a long time ago and the tears he shed were already gone when he smiled and slowly shook his head.  
"Newt, you shuck, you really were the glue."

***

Brenda's long hair swayed gently in the evening wind. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she cleaned Thomas's wounds. He flinched when she'd begun with his face, tending to the cuts on his cheekbone and forehead with some alcohol.  
"You big baby," she teased after shifting to his torso. She couldn't do much with his ribs being cracked so she just wrapped a clean piece of cloth around his bruised area. Thomas stayed quiet throughout this part, staring off into the distance with a pained look on his face. Brenda didn't pry; she knew him well enough to know he would share when he was ready. Finished with wrapling the improvised bandage, she leaned back against a tree and relaxed. Thomas didn't move, just whispered a quick 'Thank you'. A tense silence fell over them, but Brenda was patient and persistent. And it paid off.  
"I told Minho," he said so quietly she barely heard him over the noise of other Munies talking. What was once an insult, now became a symbol for the second chance they were given here.  
"About Newt?" She suspected it had something to do with his dead friend. Thomas would still wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and shaking from the nightmares. Like now, she'd never pushed him to open up; she'd only held him until the exhaustion won over and he fell back asleep.  
"Yeah. I don't know why I did it. Perhaps the nightmares have driven me crazy." He flinched at his own words, reminded again of Newt in his last moments, madness and sanity fighting for dominance inside his mind while the Flare ate away his brain. He was suddenly cold despite the warm weather and he slipped his shirt back on, ignoring red stains on it.  
"I've seen crazy, and you're not it, Thomas. But you are being too harsh on yourself."  
"Too harsh?" he laughed. "Come on, even you know that's a bunch of klunk. Minho had every right to beat me up."  
"Who's spewing klunk out of his mouth now? Minho's not the only one that lost Newt. Did he even consider how hard it was for you to pull that trigger?" Brenda's eyes blazed with anger, and she pulled at the grass between her and Thomas.  
The sound of branches snapping in the forest behind them made Thomas and Brenda jump to their feet. The Maze, the Scorch and WICKED didn't make one a relaxed person. When Minho stepped out of the woods, Brenda didn't spare a single moment before rushing at him and pushing him square in the chest. All the nearby conversations stopped; reminiscing about past wasn't that exciting when there was a possibility of a brawl right in front of you.  
"How about next time you try using your brain, you prick!" she shouted at him. Thomas grabbed her arm and tried to calm her down, but the glare she gave him was scary enough to make Grievers think twice before attacking her.  
"Brenda, look, I'm sorry-" Minho cut in, though he didn't finish his sentence before she pushed him again.  
"I'm not the one you need to apologize to." She pointed to Thomas. "You two need to talk. Now."  
The two boys rushed away when they saw the murderous look she gave them.

***

"Look, Minho, I-"  
"I'm sorry."  
"What?" Minho's back was facing him so Thomas wasn't sure he heard right.  
"I'm sorry for kicking your sorry ass." The Asian boy still refused to look at his friend, but his shoulders slouched in a gesture of defeat.  
"You don't have to apologize for that." Thomas's voice was sincere. "You've seen what I did to Gally after he'd killed Chuck." The memory still haunted him sometimes, the feeling of his fists hitting Gally's face and bruising his skin, permanently scarring him. He knew Minho would feel the same guilt Thomas did; his friend might hide his vulnerability behind sarcasm and light-hearted insults, but he cared. That's why it was important Minho believed his forgiveness.  
"It still doesn't make it right." The rage and sorrow he felt when Thomas told him the truth were the worst he'd ever felt. It was even worse than watching Alby give himself over to the Grievers because Thomas did it. How were you supposed to feel when one of your closest friends kills the other?  
"There has to be an order," Thomas said, quoting Newt.  
"Exactly." Minho laughed when he realized something. "He's dead and still smarter than both of us."  
They were both quiet for a while, each one lost in his own world.  
It was Thomas who spoke first.  
"What do you think he'd tell us if he were here?"  
"He'd probably try to eat us," Minho said. "After screaming at us." He ran his hand through his spiky hair, staring at the ground the entire time. His eyes were welled up with tears and he had to keep his voice from cracking.  
Thomas knew Minho's acceptance of Newt's fate hit him hard, but he didn't stay quiet.  
"He doesn't deserve to be remembered like that, Minho. He'd tear us both a new one and call us 'bloody shanks' while he did it."  
"There also wouldn't be getting away from him. No one could outrun him when he was angry, not even after his…" He paused there, getting lost in the memory.  
"When did it happen?" Thomas asked. He didn't know much about Newt's suicide attempt, save for what Newt himself told him on that highway minutes before dying.  
"There were signs," Minho started, his gaze still unfocused, "but we were too stupid to see it. He was angry, he didn't eat or sleep, he barely talked to anyone. It lasted for about a month before he seemingly went back to normal. Then one day he just took off into the Maze. No water, no food, just ran as fast as he could." He looked up at Thomas sitting across him. "No one even noticed something was wrong, but the shuck paid no attention where he was going and ended up in my section for that day." Minho stood up and started pacing. "I'm still not sure if I heard the snap of Newt's leg when he hit the ground or the Maze shifte, but I definitely heard the screams. Seeing him like that, broken on the ground… Getting back's in a blur. I just remember trying to block out his screams of pain and fighting him the whole way."  
"He wanted you to leave him." If anyone understood him, it was Thomas.  
"But I didn't. That's where we're different, Tommy. I could never do what you did. And I don't know whether that's good or bad."  
"You want to know what would happen if you had left Newt in the Maze that day?" Thomas's voice echoed around them, all sounds but their breathing suddenly muffled and not important.  
"You'd see his face every time you close your eyes, you'd hear the last words he spoke to you when you're alone. You'd hate yourself and him for having to make that choice. Everything would change for you. And there would be no running away from the weight of what you did." Thomas didn't hide the loathing in his voice, and Minho for the first time understood it was aimed at himself, and that it's been there for a long time - hiding beneath the damage WICKED and its Trials caused them.  
"Where do we go from here?" Minho asked. He certainly didn't have an answer. It was like there were two conflicting sides in him; one angry at Thomas about Newt's death and the other was glad his friend didn't suffer or became a full-on Crank.  
"I would do the same thing again if I had to, Minho."  
"I know, but it doesn't mean I can completely forgive you."  
Thomas nodded. "I understand." He'd react the same if he'd known Newt as long as Minho.  
"Don't worry, Tommy, our love is eternal," he said in a sappy voice, and Thomas couldn't stop his lips from spreading into a smile. Things would definitely change between Minho and him, but they would always look after each other. It's what Newt would have wanted.


End file.
